


over and over

by searwrites (sears)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, KageSuga Week, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-08 00:53:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5477060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sears/pseuds/searwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Suga stands with his shirt unbuttoned, tie slung loose around his upturned collar. His shirt rustles and crinkles as he leans further over the ironing board wedged between their small kitchenette and their hallway. He looks flustered, so Tobio ensures he sits low, as if ducking out of sight might be a tactic he needs to employ here.</p><p>---</p><p>late drabble for day 3 of kagesuga week: domestic</p>
            </blockquote>





	over and over

“Do we have to do this?” Tobio calls out, voice gruff from resting his chin over the back edge of the couch after watching Suga putter for so long.

Suga stands with his shirt unbuttoned, tie slung loose around his upturned collar. His shirt rustles and crinkles as he leans further over the ironing board wedged between their small kitchenette and their hallway. He looks flustered, so Tobio ensures he sits low, as if ducking out of sight might be a tactic he needs to employ here.

“If you would have asked me this an hour ago I might have said no,” Suga says, voice clipped yet still soft. To an outsider he might seem fine– happy, even, but Tobio knows better.

“I _just_ graduated,” he grumbles, more to himself than to Suga. “Why do they expect me to have enough money to attend fundraisers already?”

“Because the team paid your way through your degree,” Suga answers firmly, and then finally stops to glance towards Tobio. He gestures him over, and Tobio drags his feet on purpose, projecting his displeasure as physically as possible.

“I thought it was my skill on the team that paid my way,” Tobio mumbles childishly, but he concedes easily when Suga tugs him to standing in front of him. He’s finished ironing Tobio’s shirt, and since nine times out of ten Tobio ends up with one button off-kilter, Suga slides it up his arms and buttons the first three for him.

The shirt is still warm, the fabric soft and scented faintly with lavender. Suga slips the tie from around his neck and lays it flat on the ironing board, and Tobio moves to press behind him as he finishes up the last few buttons himself. Suga smells like their detergent, still– Tobio hadn’t done any laundry while he was away.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, pressing his mouth into Suga’s soft and still slightly shower-dampened hair.

Suga sighs and picks up the pace, ironing with practised ease, steam billowing out from the sides of the thing. It used to make Tobio nervous, how efficient and perfunct Suga could achieve what he would consider ‘adult chores’, but now it’s almost soothing. Out of nothing more than a nostalgic memory of the way he used to be too afraid to touch Suga without asking first, Tobio slips a hand around his stomach, slides his palm over the warm, bare skin there.

“I’ll give you my dessert?” Tobio offers, kissing the first delicate knob of Suga’s spine.

Suga switches off the iron and then turns in Tobio’s hold, and it’s with no small amount of victory that Tobio notes the way Suga is barely holding back a grin.

“You’re a disaster,” Suga says, tucking a strand of hair behind Tobio’s ear in a way that feels more like _‘I love you’_ than anything else.

“Sorry,” Tobio says again, smiling with half his mouth, trying to keep it hidden. He presses his forehead to Suga’s, moving only minutely when Suga flips his collar up and slides the tie around his neck. “I thought this one was yours,” Tobio says, eyes flicking toward the paisley patterned silk in Suga's hands.

Suga shrugs, and he laughs when Tobio makes an errant choking sound as he swiftly does up the very top button that Tobio always forgets to do. He flips the tie into an elegant knot, tightens it to the apple of Tobio’s throat and then gently pushes two fingers between it and the top button to get the right amount of tension. Tobio knows this is necessary only because Suga has done this for him so many times.

“I’m not wearing one,” Suga says, sweeping open palms down the length of Tobio’s chest, settling the fabric against the contours of his body. Tobio dips his head, watching beneath the fall of dark hair. Suga could show up to an event in his pjs and Tobio thinks he’d still be the best looking one in the room.

“Thank you,” Tobio says as Suga takes a step back to admire his handiwork, sounding more sincere than he means to.

“Don’t mention it, kid,” Suga says with an amused smirk, gently patting beneath Tobio’s chin to get him to look at him more squarely. Suga is always on at him over his posture, but this is more unthinking affection than any kind of chide. Suga sometimes just enjoys putting his hands on him, and the resolute understanding of that makes Tobio grin at what Suga must assume are his own dirty thoughts.

Instead of letting Suga comment that he needs to pull his mind out of the gutter again, Tobio dips down and kisses his neck, lips pressing against the velvet warm skin hidden beneath the angle of his jaw.

He expects to be shoved off, expects to be reminded of the time. Instead Suga makes a soft sound of pleasure that settles warmly around Tobio’s chest and allows it, tipping his head back and gripping at the shirt he’d just ironed for him. When Tobio pulls back Suga’s eyes are dark and Tobio wants nothing more than to stay in this apartment for the remainder of the night.

But he’d put Suga through hell getting him ready so last minute like this, so instead Tobio kisses blindly towards the mole beneath Suga’s eye and swallows down a yelp when Suga swats at his backside when he trots away to find a belt.

He ends up wearing Suga’s black textured leather one, with the gunmetal cuff links Suga sometimes wears to work. He wears Suga’s things because they are a weighted reminder that everything within these walls are _theirs_ , and it’s something he doesn’t ever plan on taking for granted. Certainly not Suga himself, he thinks, as he catches sight of Suga wearing a navy blue sport coat with the cuffs neatly rolled up his forearms.

 

As usual, Suga is the best looking one in any room.

**Author's Note:**

> ([twitter](https://twitter.com/ashemasteryi))


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